


Kin

by Nebulad



Series: Stargazers [4]
Category: Pyre (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Found Families, Friendship, M/M, Other, Sandalwood Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 13:35:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11692716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nebulad/pseuds/Nebulad
Summary: The Reader deals with the emotional aftermath of nearly being dismissed by the team's benefactor. The Nightwings, meanwhile, work to prove that literacy isn’t the only thing they like about their Reader.





	Kin

The Reader carved star patterns into their cane, teeth clenched together. Volfred was talking to Tariq and they were ignoring both of them because… because _fuck this whole trip._ The internal curse was punctuated by a violent snap of the knife they used, taking out a chunk larger than what they would’ve wanted. Throwing down the blade in disgust they pulled themself painstakingly to their feet, wishing that pacing was of any use.

_I’m certain that we all appreciate your efforts here, my kin, though we shall manage on our own from here on out… thanks as well for looking after all my books…_

They’d stood in stunned, unhappy silence. They’d been _dead._ This stranger didn’t understand that; before the wagon had found them, before Hedwyn had nursed them back from the brink, they were a smear in the snow. They were a splash of blood against an infinite canvas. They were _nothing,_ and this… _Sap_ thought that they were so changeable as to be taking part in the Rite for _sol?_ What did he know about the Rites? What did he know about handling the bulky sway of Jodariel’s balance as if it were their own, and knowing in turn that the captain _trusted_ them to do so? He couldn’t fathom was sort of bond it took to flit through the air like Rhae did, feeling the flame against Ti’zo’s feathers and knowing intuitively that their friends _knew_ the fire would not burn because the _Reader_ had told them so.

Hedwyn had spoken up for them, called them his friend. It soothed an anger that hadn’t existed, though— they weren’t angry at him. They’d… _dreaded_ the thought that perhaps the wagon would roll on without them, indifferent to the poor vagabond with two aching legs and no chance of surviving alone— by the Scribes, they’d proved it once already, barely out of the river before they’d faltered. His words, however kind, calmed a newborn fear that had nothing to do with the wooden prick who had the _gall—_

They threw themself back down, regretting their haste as soon as the prosthetic rubbed the wrong way against their skin. They hissed and pressed the heels of their palm into their eyes, feeling tears well up traitorously. Their role had been so _necessary,_ and now there was just some… _stranger_ that wanted to take that. Everyone in the wagon was vital to whatever bizarre plan he had in mind, except _them._

Why not them?

They felt someone settle down in the grass nearby and tried to compose themself; it was embarrassing enough that their usefulness to this journey was all but _nil_ and that a stranger had pointed it out to everyone. They didn’t need baldfaced _sobbing_ to add to the humiliation. Of course, judging by the size of the person who’d sat down it could only be Jodariel, and Scribes knew that if Jodi was on their scent then they’d been more obvious than they’d hoped. “How are you?” she asked, redundantly.

“Fine,” they lied, through tears.

She nodded brusquely, as if she’d expected them to say it. “We— all of us, besides Sandalwood— wanted you to know that when Hedwyn brought you to the wagon, none of us had any idea that our informant meant to be rid of you. Perhaps Tariq did, but the mind of the Minstrel is his own and he rarely shares his insights with us.” They knew that at well; it didn’t stop them from being angry at him. “As far as we’re concerned, you’re indispensable.”

Like Hedwyn’s reassurances, they were kind but not rightly the problem. “Thank-you,” they tried, still teary. Despite their previous ranting implying that Sandalwood could know _nothing_ of the Rites if he thought to separate the Reader from the Nightwings, their gut told them that he knew much more than he would even let on. He could _read_ , he had to be able to if he thought to oust them _…_ if their skill wasn’t unique, then what was the point of them? They _couldn’t_ participate in the Rite, not with their leg.

Jodariel let them be with their thoughts for a moment, before continuing. “What I mean to say is that your presence is indispensable. Even forgetting your role within the Rites, our wagon would not be the same without you in it; we would actively fight your removal, because we care for you. Your reading is immaterial to that.” She placed a heavy hand on the Reader’s shoulder, squeezing before she brought herself to her feet.

The crying faltered, although they wondered if it was in preparation for a fresh wave. They struggled to decide if what she’d said made them feel better, through shivering sips of air— they were important past their reading, and would be protected regardless of whether or not they performed as well as Sandalwood in the Rites. Still, the benefactor of their journey didn’t think so; there was still a chance they’d end up as a burden on their friends.

There was also a chance to prove him wrong, though. They would fight the Chastity next, and they could show him that their team was _worth_ investing in.

“You should find Hedwyn,” she offered, at her full height now. “He’s been frantic trying to think of how to cheer you up.” Their neck turned red as they began the process of shifting their weight around appropriately to reach their feet; unnecessary, as Jodariel held out her hand and compensated for their lack of balance.

She nodded gruffly and turned to seek out Pamitha and Rukey (mostly Rukey), playing cards a little further away. Hearing a faint commotion in the wagon which they could only assume was some combination of Hedwyn and Rhae, they made their way in that direction— and took a wide berth around Sandalwood and Tariq, hoping that at least one of them noticed the cold shoulder whether or not either of them cared.

Once inside, Rhae— absolutely covered in some sort of ink and sitting amidst empty, blackened tins— waved with her whole arm. “Hedwyn, the Reader’s come to see us! We’re glad you’re not crying anymore!” Ti’zo evidently agreed, throwing his feathery body directly into them— who wobbled, but was steadied by Hedwyn’s quick move towards the door.

“Welcome back, my friend. How do you feel?” he asked, arm firmly keeping them upright. They smiled while trying to juggle Ti’zo and themself so he didn’t have to worry, but he didn’t seem to be in any sort of rush to let go.

“Better,” they answered, more honestly than before.

“Oh, but did you still want our present then?” Rhae looked uncertain and Ti’zo ruffled up hopefully. The Reader glanced up at Hedwyn, who was beaming and already ushering them deeper into the wagon. “We worked hard? _I_ think we worked very hard on it— I _know_ we did, if you wanted to see!”

Of course, by the time she was finished speaking Hedwyn had already sat them down and put a pale grey bundle in their arms. It took them a minute to really understand what they were holding— they’d thought it was destroyed in their trip down the river, obliterated by the rushing water and debris that seemed to follow the exiles as they went— but their eyes burned again when they recognised it.

Their cloak had been mended and the symbol on the back— the one that marked them as a reader in the first place— had been given a fresh paint job, presumably by Rhae of the inky arms and Ti’zo of the filthy bird feet. Time and love had been put painstakingly into something so… personal, so insignificant but something it’d hurt to lose. It’d meant so much more at the time— borrowing so many clothes left them adrift, without anything to mark who they’d been in the Commonwealth. It’d been stupid and they _knew_ they read too much into it, but it was one more comfort lost… and now found.

“I hope you like it? Yes?” Rhae was kneeling beside them in a breath, Ti’zo perched with his talons clenched onto her shoulder to keep his place. The Reader nodded breathlessly, impulsively reaching out to hug the both of them. Rhae made a noise like a coo and when she pulled away, lifted Ti’zo back into her arms. “We’ll go tell Sir Gilman how good it went— he wanted to help too. Except he couldn’t? He doesn’t have hands, but he wanted to know that you liked it.”

They managed to choke out “Thank-you,” before the two darted out of the wagon to report their success. It left them alone with Hedwyn, who was just watching them, smiling. “Can I hug you too?” they asked, their grip a bit too iron around their prize.

“Of course,” he said, doing all the actual work of hugging while they just shuffled forward and pushed their face against his shoulder. “You’re a Nightwing too, my friend. No one can tell you that you aren’t, after what we’ve all been through together.”

At that point they were incoherent enough that their response was unintelligible, but Hedwyn’s soft, sympathetic _I know_ as they both settled against the wagon wall made them laugh through happier tears than before.

**Author's Note:**

> [My writing blog is here](http://nebulaad.tumblr.com) and that's where [my commissions post lives too](http://nebulaad.tumblr.com/post/162182264019/writing-commissions).
> 
> What the fuck was with the brush-off Sandalwood. What the fuck. Here I am falling in love with/loving deeply all these wagon nerds, collecting them from bad places and making them into a family and a basketball team, then you show up in the middle of the woods, toss me some cash and tell me to hit the bricks? Me?
> 
> ~~Hedwyn sticking up for you warms the deepest corners of my heart.~~


End file.
